


A Growing Boy

by EgoDominusTuus



Series: Chain of Command [4]
Category: Fallout 3, Fallout 4
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, And has his son, Eclair grew up, Eclair's got this, Little Lamplight, Other, Resistance, Strength, and damn him if his son isn't an omega, really - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-11
Updated: 2016-03-11
Packaged: 2018-05-26 01:02:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6217348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EgoDominusTuus/pseuds/EgoDominusTuus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A growing boy clearly needs his Ma and Da to take care of him - Eclair's about the learn this lesson well.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Growing Boy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ProwlingThunder](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ProwlingThunder/gifts).



I hadn't intended to have a kid, by any means. George was the result of Princess and I, and one night of hormone driven passion... but I couldn't regret it when I looked into his eyes and saw my own bright hues shimmering back. I couldn't regret it when he smiled, or laughed.

   I might have regretted it for the first few months after I'd taken him from Lamplight. He was only eight, and he went kicking and screaming; he didn't recognize me for quite some time, and he was ten years old before he finally started calling me Da, instead of Eclair. I think, even though I was a mungo, he wanted a parent. He wanted to be taken care of.

   There were still times when I heard him crying for Ma in his sleep, and I knew who he was talking about. RJ... but I didn't know where RJ was, and it was hard enough to get through the Wasteland with George - we couldn't worry about finding RJ at the moment. We just had to find a place safe for the two of us.

   I knew that Lamplight was probably furious with me; they'd sent people to try to track George down when I'd nabbed him while he was scouting over the wall. I'd seen them roaming for days, but I'd kept George from seeing them. I'd kept my son from being too upset, and after a while, he'd realized that I just wanted to take care of him.

   He'd realized that I was Da, and that things could be safe with me. I managed to beef up the little shack that I'd been staying at, and George came with me on the easier jobs; I left him home when I went to clear out raider camps. I hadn't realized that being a cook for a small town gave you other capabilities; maybe it was just something I was naturally inclined to, but a gun felt good in my hands. After being with me for a year, I could leave George home without the door locked.

  By the time I was 25, George had grown into a strong young man; I'd been feeding him better than he was used to, and he'd hit a growth spurt even earlier than I had. He came nearly up to my mouth, and his long hair spilled just like mine to the nape of his neck. Of course, my tail would have hung loose to mid back if I let it, but I kept it tied back and out of the way. What I didn't like was the way that George was slowly growing more and more restless as days passed. Puberty had hit him, and I knew what followed.

   I was trying to ignore what followed - I didn't want to think of George going through his first heat... because I wasn't really sure of how to deal with it. There'd been no actual process for it in Lamplight - we'd been left to run rampant. The only rule was that you didn't hurt anyone in the process, and you didn't take anyone who didn't want it. Only as an adult did I realize that they were always going to want it if they were in heat...

   Sometimes, I hated the fact that I'd turned into a mungo, simply because I was coming to realize that the world was even more fucked up outside of Little Lamplight than it had been on the inside. But still, I couldn't have left George to that - I'd seen a new influx of Alpha children, as the mungo called them, heading into Lamplight.

   There were at least an even dozen of them, and they all looked mean and lean... and little George was nearly eight, and I knew he'd go into heat soon.

   I couldn't. I wasn't going to leave him there. Maybe it was some weird sense of moral standing that I'd developed while taking care of everyone in Lamplight and making sure that they were fed... but I couldn't do it.

   Maybe it was the fact that he was my kid, and I wanted to be responsible for him - I wanted to feel close to him.

   ... Maybe I just missed everyone at Lamplight, and it hurt my chest to think that I'd never see anyone from there again.

   Whatever the reason, I'd taken him. The thoughts and guilt over the whole thing plagued me constantly, and they were on my mind when I came home from clearing out a Raider camp. I was sweaty and slicked with dirt and a few spatters of blood, and I was already anxious to get some food thrown into the pot so that I could sit down to rest. I knocked on the door, and when George didn't immediately come to unbar it, my brow furrowed.

   It took me calling out his name to get his attention, and I could see something wild in his eyes when he did finally answer me. We were set off from the road, from any raider camps - I'd made sure that we were at least a mile off from anyone and everyone who could get to us. After all, I still

didn't trust the Mungos...

   And it was a good thing that we were, because the sensation of exactly what was going on with George hit me like a damn radstag straight to the chest. I could smell the sweet scent of desire rolling off of him, and I remembered it, I knew what it was. It was like when RJ when into heat, and I'd pounced and mounted him. It was like the other Omegas in Lamplight.

   George was in heat, and my body instantly twisted in reaction to the scent, even though my mind instantly threw on breaks because this was _my son_ , and I'd pulled him out of Lamplight to make sure that he didn't get pinned against his own will.

   "Da..." He slunk up to me, wrapping his arms around me in a tight hug. George was affectionate, but he lingered, and I could feel it when he inhaled my scent with a small tremble.

  "Da, I'm hungry." George's voice was soft and husky, and I instantly pushed him back from the hug with a wide smile on my face.

  "I'll make something to eat for us, then!" I completely misinterpreted the more subtle meaning of his words. The truth was, he could be confused about what was going on inside of him. I could remember feeling it for the first time - like a soft hunger in the pit of your stomach. I was going to just stuff him full of food, until he forgot about the fact that he was feeling...

   That he needed...

   God, I was just going to feed him food.

   I moved past him as smoothly as I could manage, though he was on my heels like he hadn't been since we'd both been in Little Lamplight together. It made my chest constrict, because I knew there was no innocence behind the way that he followed me now. He wasn't calling me Da with a soft voice and tugging on my coat because he wanted dinner scraps.

   And I sure as hell wasn't going to give him what he wanted from me now. He didn't even realize how wrong it was.

   "Da... my stomach feels _funny_." His voice was a soft complaint, and I actually had to close my eyes for a moment against the scent that was rolling off of him. I looked at the pot of radstag and sparse veggies that I'd been boiling all day while I was out, and decided that I definitely needed to amp up the scent of it.

   "You'll feel better after dinner." God, I hoped that he felt better after dinner. I'd make sure, one way or another, that he did. My eyes flicked up to the small collection of herbs and spices that I'd bottled during my short travels, and I made myself busy with preparing dinner. I threw more spices into the food, skillfully cut some corn off of the cob - I even threw in a few odds and ends that I was saving for a rainy day. I didn't care if I was going to have to work twice as hard to resupply our food source... I was just trying to drown on the scent of desire in the air.

  It almost worked.

  The scent was dulled, but it was still there - and just as I was finishing putting the last ingredient in the pot to simmer for a few minutes, George came up behind me and wrapped his arms around my waist. I froze in place, because I could feel every line of his small body pressed against my own. I'd not had sex since I left Lamplight - that was nearly 10 years... but I didn't want to make another little George in this world.

   And now little George was pressing himself against me, and it took every bit of resolve that I'd managed in the last 10 years to keep myself from turning and taking him into my arms.

   "Go sit down, dinner's about to be ready." He seemed unwilling to let me go through, and I let my voice take a darker edge to it - it was easy to put my frustration at the entire situation into my tone. "Now."

   He let out a low, thready whine, but he detached himself from my frame and I let out a small sigh of relief. I leaned further over the pot and let the scent of the stew I'd made flood my senses. Soft, earthy, delicious really. I'd improved my cooking skills drastically once I was out in the Wasteland and able to get ahold of more supplies. With a small frown, I grabbed one of the smaller bottles from the makeshift shelf, stuffing it into my pocket before moving to serve dinner at the planks of wood nailed together that served as our table.

  It wasn't hard to busy myself for the next few minutes with getting the table set. I'd actually acquired a decent amount of cups and plates - it was better than having to use things that you made yourself; you never knew what was going to be radiated, after all. I'd come to realize that most of us from Lamplight were far more susceptible to radiation poisoning than the regular mungos who lived outside of our little down. Half of my caps went to making sure that George and I were properly stocked on RadX and RadAway.

  I hated radiation sickness.

  I hated the fact that my son was looking at me with hot eyes that glowed with need even more. I sat his bowl down in front of him and liberally piled it full of stew, making sure that there was more in there than he was used to. His eyes widened.

   "You'll feel better after you eat." I nodded, and he picked up his spoon. Though he gave me a dubious glance, and I could see the flush on his cheeks that had nothing to do with hunger, he listened. I had to convince myself that eating would take away my ailment as well, even though I knew nothing was going to solve that until George was over this first little hump in his life. A low groan spilled from my chest as I watched him literally suck at his spoon, and I had to drop my eyes to my meal.

   Other mungos talked about how you lost yourself when there was an Omega in heat - how you couldn't help but to jump on them. I didn't understand why they thought that way... except that they were a bunch of fucking mungos. Just because I could smell the scent of sex and need in the air didn't mean that I was going to bypass the fact that George was my kid. It wasn't acceptable. Even before I'd gotten him back, I'd never given in to my urges - I'd always excused myself back to my little shack and rode it out if there was a scent like this in the air.

   Back in Lamplight, I hadn't known any better. I did now. Fuck, but I did now. Even though George was making the softest sounds in front of me, completely inappropriate to eating. I heard the clink of his spoon as he sat it on the table, and I raised my eyes as he looked up at me.

   "My stomach still feels funny, Da." I knew what he wanted. I was just glad that his mind hadn't wrapped around it yet. He started to stand, and I quickly shifted, ladling more stew into his bowl.

  "Eat more." I gestured to him, though I could feel the little bottle like a weight in my pocket. I didn't want to drug him - I didn't want him all soft and sleeping and vulnerable. I didn't want to be so weak willed that I had to put my own kid to sleep - but he was pouting at me with his spoon in his hand.

   "But, Da-"

   "Eat, George. You'll feel better soon." My voice was firm, and I was glad for it. He groaned, but picked his spoon up and started to shovel more of the stew into his mouth. I could see that he was forcing it, and I was sure that he was already feeling more full than usual. I made sure that he was fed, but we were always careful.

   I didn't care about being careful right now, if I could fill him so full of food that he didn't feel like doing anything other than resting, I'd use all the food in the house.

  My own stew remained untouched in front of me - my stomach was a rolling field of heat and disgust and need wrapped in one, and it wasn't going to tolerate another bite of the stew that I'd been so excited about. Instead, I watched George carefully - my sweet son, who shoveled the food dutifully into his mouth, even though I could tell that he was already full. Worse, the scent that filled the air was rising, so that even the spices and meat couldn't make it dissipate. When George put his spoon down again, my entire body was one breath away from being a fine, trembling line.

   "Da..." His voice was thick, and full of things other than food. His pupils were dilated when he rose his gaze to meet mine, making his hues look all the darker for it. "I still feel funny."

   "Damn it." I swore under my breath, but forced myself to give him a warm smile. "You probably just need... more food?" Just a little more. My fingers shifted to my pocket, and I grabbed the bottle that I'd been carefully concealing. I didn't want to use it - I didn't want to drug my own son, but I wasn't seeing another option. He stood from the table, and his lips were in a full pout.

   "I've had two servings, I'm not hungry anymore." He slipped over beside me, and his hand came out to run down the length of my arm. I'd taken my coat off while cooking, so it was bare flesh to bare flesh, and it sent a ripple of sensation through me that caused my stomach to jerk and the little food that I had consumed to gurgle in my gut. I didn't want this - it wasn't going to happen. Still, his hand trailed down, shifting to spill underneath my shirt - I'd cut the arms out long ago, and it was easy for him to slide fingers beneath the dirty material. I jerked as though I'd been touched by a live wire, because his fingers infallibly found the curve of my nipple. The sound of my chair scraping the ground as I shoved it back from the table was a horrible thing.

   Worse though, was that I just gave George room to slide forward and curl up in my lap like he had when he was a young lad who had nightmares. My eyes clenched shut tight, my teeth biting down inside of my jaw until I could taste nothing but copper and heat, and I let the pain of that center me, until the sweet weight of him against my lap didn't drive me to insanity.

   "Da..." His voice was soft, strangled, and he turned his body to nuzzle against my neck, until I wanted to scream. "Help me?"

   Well, **_fuck_** _._

  "George, get up." My voice wasn't as firm as I wanted it to be, but I was pleased that I could, at least, say the words. What bothered me was, for the first time, he didn't listen. His face nuzzled closer, until I could feel the press of his lips against the pulse at my throat. He inhaled, and I felt him shudder against me.

   "You smell better than the stew."

   Honestly, I didn't mean to unceremoniously dump him into the floor... but his lips parted, and I could feel the wetness of his mouth against my throat. I stood like a flash of light, and he fell from my lap with a wounded expression. I took three quick steps away, until my back was actually against the wall. My fingers fumbled for the bottle in my pocket, and damn me if George didn't crawl towards me.

   How he managed to make his body move like some wild cat was beyond me, but he was at my ankles, and his arms were skimming up my legs, and there was a cry in his voice was he pleaded with me. "Help me, Da. Please? Please... it _hurts_." And he sounded like it did - I could see his body reacting through the thin material of his pants, and I couldn't crawl back any further against the wall. I was damn near climbing it as it were.

  "Okay, George." I put my hand down when I realized that I wasn't going to be able to crawl up the wall after all. "Okay, I'll help you." My fingers stroked through his hair, and I was almost positive that I heard him purr beneath my touch. For a moment, I remembered the way that RJ had purred, his skinny arms needy, his legs wrapping around my waist and wanting me deeper inside of him. My eyes clenched shut tight, my teeth shredding my inner jaw until I tasted blood again. But I couldn't get his blue eyes out of my mind, and my body was reacting to the memory of it more than I wanted.

   George's eyes were wide, as though he could scent my arousal in the air, and I wanted to scream. It wasn't _for him_ , but he was the one here, and I was shaking now as he rose to wrap his arms around my waist. I had to jerk my head away when he tilted his up, and my hands came down to grab his wrists when he tried to dive greedy digits down my pants.

   "But you have to help me first." My voice was firm again, and I hated that it shook.

   "Anything, Da." Breathy - his voice was breathy, and I was fucking furious that my son was growing up to be a damn mungo. Why - why did this have to happen? These heats were just proof that mungos were the goddamn worst, because we hadn't had to worry about this when we were children. I kept his wrists carefully encircled in my fingers, holding him off of me as he tried to writhe his lithe frame against my front.

   "You know the rules - we can't leave food on the table." My eyes glanced back to the soup that I'd left, and suddenly it was a goddamn mercy. "I didn't finish mine. Help me?"

   His eyes widened, and he let out a low sound in his chest. "I'm full though, Da. I don't think I can-"

    "Come on, George." I was disgusted with the way that my voice purred out, and I twisted his frame so that I could hold both of his slender wrists in one hand. The other stroked through his hair, and he nuzzled against my hand. "I'll feed you, okay? Come on."

  I don't know if he realized that I was leading him back to the table, but he refused to sit in the chair when I tried to steer him down. I actually had to sit down first, and he instantly crawled into my lap. I pulled the bottle from my pocket, but doing so caused me to let go of his wrists. He instantly threw his arms around me and brought his lips to my neck again - his small lips delivered fevered kisses, and I had to bite a moan down in the back of my throat when his teeth found my skin. My eyes closed tight, for just a moment, but I brought the bottle up while he was distracted and dumped a dollop of the spices into the stew.

   I twirled the spoon for a moment, and then pulled George back from me with a gasp. He whimpered, fingers scrambling, but I brought one finger up to his lips. "Shhh. Eat first, George. Okay?" And then - my voice was an unspoken promise, but his mind wrapped around it nonetheless. He nodded quickly, and opened his mouth, a tiny pink tongue flicking out to lick at my finger.

   The sensation of it drew a straight line to my pelvis, and I almost snarled out at the sensation of it... but I managed to keep the sound in my chest. I brought the spoon to his lips and watched as he hungrily sucked against it. From the way that his eyes rolled back, I knew that he was imagining something else.

  From the way that my body jerked, I knew that I was thinking of something else, too. But it didn't matter, because he eagerly opened his lips for another bite. Half way through the stew, his lids began to droop. It was just in time, because the sweet line of heat in his body was making me tremble - bringing my breath in sharp gasps. All that I could smell was the scent of him. One more bite, and he leaned over against my chest, his breath coming softer than it had been a moment ago.

   "Da... I'm tired... but... still feel... so..."

   "Shh, George. Close your eyes for a minute." I was shocked to hear the way that my voice quavered, like I was on the edge of tears. "I'll take care of you, I promise." I planted a soft kiss to the top of his head, and he nuzzled closer to me... but his little hands didn't grab... and after a few minutes, he was snoozing softly against my chest.

   I could still smell him, his scent thick and clinging at my senses... but I stood with him in my arms and took him to bed. For just a moment, I had to fight with myself after I laid him down - fight not to crawl between the sheets and join him.

   But I did it. I pushed myself back with a ripping gasp, and half crawled to the other side of the room. I scooted until my back hit the corner, and then I drew my knees up to my chest. I _wouldn't_ touch George. If nothing, this situation made me realize that I'd been right in pulling him from Lamplight, because no one else would have cared.

   No one else would have _stopped._

   But I would. My mind rolled with the thought of it, my body still a fine tremble... and I realized that I couldn't do this alone. I needed _help._

   RJ's blue eyes instantly came to my mind, his eyes and the way George had called him Ma. His eyes, that word... and the knowledge that he was a sweet Omega who would never try to take advantage of George. I knew what I needed - in more than one way, I knew what I needed... because the thought of sinking my prick deep into RJ's core right now drew my mind further from George sleeping on the bed.

   When my son was out of heat, when things had calmed... I had a year - a year to find RJ. And I was damn well going to do just that. George needed him... he was a growing boy without a mother.

   I needed him - I was an Alpha with no Omega to satiate these urges that were burning and ripping through my chest, and George was the only person in this world that I couldn't run away from to practice my restraint.

   We _both_ needed him, and it was only the thought of his sweet heat wrapping tight around my body that brought me peace as I listened to George breath soft in his sleep.


End file.
